Power
by Shakespeare's Girl
Summary: Spike didn't realize how intimidating Xander could be. Slashy, Spander, leaning toward BDSM. Minor spoilers for Buffy episode "Doomed."
1. Chapter 1

**Power**

**By Shakespeare's Girl**

**A/N: Another piece I found in the back of my filing cabinet (well, okay, I don't have a filing cabinet, but you get the idea). Set during the Buffy episode "Doomed" with minor spoilers, although I guess anyone who's reading this has probably already seen the show, so spoiler warnings are just a big bother. Blatant Spander pre-slash. Enter here, all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I shall give thee slash! (I apologize for my horrendous and sacrilegious misquotation of the Bible.)**

"Soddin' sleeping chair is bloody--sodden," Spike complained, not for the first time. Xander sighed. Spike had been complaining about things since before the earthquake. Only now, he actually had something worth complaining about. Quietly, Xander slid a pan underneath the leaky pipe to capture the water.

"The quake just knocked a couple of pipes lose," he explained patiently. "There's a wrench hanging up over there by the work bench. Try tightening the coupling."

Xander put down the damp rags he'd been sopping up water with and grabbed his Pizza 'Spress shirt, shaking it out and hoping that the mildew scent was just his imagination. It had been too long between construction jobs--plus mystical syphilis didn't make for a good resume--so Xander had taken up the old odd-job habit again, until he could convince someone to take a chance on the guy who randomly disappeared without calling in sick.

"Do I look like a plumber to you?" Spike demanded, and at the sound of his voice, the way he was so obviously hoping for a handout, a quick-fix, someone to do his bidding while he figured out how to be evil again, Xander finally snapped.

"No," Xander answered. "You look like a big mooch that doesn't lift a finger around here." He could feel Spike's eyes on him, feel the anger broiling inside the vampire, and he turned around and slammed the smaller body into the wall. Spike's eyes went wide, variants of shock, hope, lust, and fear swimming through them, and Xander realized something very important. If he did this right, he could have a vampire under his control before noon tomorrow. Slowly, Xander backed off. "But I have to get to work."

Spike straightened himself out, stepping away from the wall and sniffing, "Yeah, delivering melted cheese on bread, doing your part to keep America constipated."

Xander whirled again, and Spike found himself back against the wall, Xander's forearm cutting into his windpipe. "Mock not," Xander warned, using familiar, silly phrasing, even though the intent was anything but silly. This was deadly serious, and they both knew it. "Remember who pays for the plasma around here, pal." Xander reached to the side, and Spike thought the human was going to snap his neck, or at least show him that he could. Instead, he found a cold, metal wrench pressed into his stomach, cutting into the tender flesh around his belly and making him shiver. Xander's voice was close to his ear when he murmured, "You earn your keep or you don't get kept." Spike wanted to scream at those words, the tone one he knew well--he'd used it often enough--but never one he thought he'd hear directed at himself. In that same soft voice, wrench still pressing into Spike's belly, Xander continued listing tasks for the vampire to do while he was gone. "When you're done fixing that leak, try cleaning up _this_mess. And doing a little laundry for once, wouldn't kill you . . . unfortunately." Xander backed away, and slipped the wrench into Spike's belt, letting it slide down his front and into his pants. Spike jumped as the cool metal touched his sudden, inexplicable erection, and grabbed the tool, pulling it away from his skin.

Xander headed up the stairs, and Spike watched him, panting heavily and trying to figure out what had just happened. He'd just _relinquished_. To a human. Not even another vampire. And the human had not only acknowledged his sudden power, but taken advantage of it. And Spike hadn't done a thing to stop him.

This was bad, Spike decided. Very, very bad. He was thinking about obeying a human--Xander Harris of all people. And it felt good.


	2. Chapter 2

Xander came down the steps after he got off work--and damn he hated that stupid job--to find utter chaos. Things were strewn all over his basement, covering furniture, soggy and dripping and--was that ironing board bent? How did Spike manage to cause such destruction in only half a day? "Oh no," Xander moaned, surveying the place, and yes, the ironing board was bent. "Spike the place looks worse than when I left! You didn't even fix the drip."

"Don't turn around."

Xander ground his teeth at the voice. The least the idiotic little vampire could have done was start with an apology for the mess he'd created.

"Spike? What is it? What happened?" _Tell me or I am going to tear your heart out and feed it to you._

"Don't look at me!" Spike snapped, not answering any of Xander's questions. Xander turned around despite the threats, and couldn't help laughing at what he saw. Spike was dressed in one of Xander's own Hawaiian shirts, and an old pair of khaki shorts. It was hilarious, especially with the punk nail polish and hair. "I shrunk them," Spike whined, holding up his old black t-shirt. "Bleeding shirt, trousers." Xander advanced on Spike, getting close enough to take Spike's shirt away from him. "I hate this place," Spike moaned.

"You know, I'm not any happier about you wearing my stuff than you are," Xander murmured, crowding Spike and letting his fingers find the top button of the shirt and undo it. Spike slapped his hands away, not hard enough to set off the chip, but enough that Xander backed off a little.

"Go out, get me some decent stuff," Spike ordered, pushing at Xander, who was still a little in Spike's space. "And I want more blood."

"No," Xander shook his head, pressing up against Spike and forcing him backward toward the wall. "You're not a guest."

Spike shuddered, and Xander smiled. "You want me to tear this place apart, you bloody poof?" Spike threatened, but the threat lacked any real weight, Spike's chip and Xander's sudden confidence making any threats pretty much moot.

"That's it," Xander hissed, anger finally simmering up to a boil. "I am _way_ past through with this. I hate to break it to you, oh impotent one, but you're not the big bad anymore," Xander snapped, his mouth next to Spike's ear. Spike's back hit the wall and Xander moved in even closer, their bodies brushing together when one of them moved. "You're not even 'kinda naughty,'" Xander continued, one hand going to Spike's throat, the other toying with the waistband of the borrowed khakis. "You are nothing but a waste of space," Xander breathed, hot and human and horrifying in Spike's ear. "My space. And as much as I always got a big laugh watching Buffy kick your shiny, white ass, and as much as I know I can give you a little ass-kicking myself right now--" Xander broke off to slide his hand inside Spike's pants and grab a handful of the vampire's butt, squeezing hard enough to leave half-circle shaped gouges that oozed blood-- "I'm here to tell you something." Xander leaned in even closer, until his body and Spike's were pressed against each other, his lips resting right on Spike's ear. "_You're not even worth it._"

Spike sucked in a breath. His heart had that heavy feel that he'd associated once-upon-a-time with pounding, his throat was tight and for some strange reason, he was incredibly turned on. Xander's hand slid over Spike's hip and grabbed a handful of Spike's erection, making the vampire whimper and pant. Xander squeezed, knowing it was cruel, knowing he was causing more than physical pain.

With a smooth push away from the wall, Xander shed the Pizza 'Spress shirt and hat, grabbing a jacket from the couch and eying Spike as he pulled it on over his white undershirt. "I'm outta here," he told Spike, his voice cold. "When I get back, this will be cleaned up. Everything will be in it's place, the ironing board will be in it's original shape, and you _will_ be out of my clothes."

Xander let the door thud shut behind him, and Spike tried to stop himself gulping in air.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," Spike whispered, sinking down the wall and burying his face in his hands. "This isn't how it's supposed to be."

**A/N: I am totally identifying with Spike and the wretchedness of life right now. Fortunately for me, there is fanfic, to cheer me up. And further adventures with Spike and the basement of doom to amuse and entertain.**


End file.
